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The dilapidated bus that was to be our next means of transportation was my next “welcome to India moment” – the bus had been around far longer than I have even been alive and the last paint job was probably administered around the time I was weaning from the bottle.  It was quite a piece of work let me tell you.  There was no reason to desire tinted windows on the bus because they were so dirty and cloudy that light could only seep through them anyway.

There are no direct trains from Udaipur to Pushkar so we had to get off in the heaving, hot city of Ajmer, navigate from the train to the bus station, and then take a local bus into Pushkar, about 40 kilometers away.  Helen had some pretty wretched “chicken bus” stories about her time in the Peace Corps in Guatemala, but this was a first for me.  As the only foreigners on the bus we were given a bit more space than the others – that meant that no one else tried to leverage their bodies onto our bus seat with us.  Instead, we sat with both of our packs perched precariously as we navigated the winding road with sheer dropoffs on one side and tried to ignore the outright and blatant stares that took place the entire hour bus ride.

I kid you not, there were several men and women on the bus who did not look away from us for more than a minute of the bus ride – they feel no shame or awkwardness and unabashedly stare at you.  They marveled as I applied some chap-stick and were tickled when we had a moment of re-arranging the bags so that I could take off my jacket and thus show a bit more skin.

Alas though, all good things must come to an end and so did the “Shannon and Helen Two Bag Circus Show.”  We loaded our packs onto our backs and hoofed it for ten minutes into the heart of Pushkar.

Arriving in Pushkar is like stepping onto one street of concentrated tourism – and hippy, alternative tourism at that.  The town thrives off of the one main street of colorful shops selling enough scarves, skirts, and shirts to cloth a small nation.  And, like so much of India the scents are immediately overwhelming – both repugnant and pleasant in one happy mixture.

Our first order of business was to unload the bags in a guesthouse; and though we are rarely keen to give the endless number of Indians the time of day, a young boy handed us a card for Hotel Tulsi Palace.  We took the card but shooed him away, intent on trying out the Lonely Planet recommendation – that was a bust though in a major way so we hunted down the boy and headed off of the main drag, through some side streets (we started to worry about this) and finally arrived at a clean hotel off of the bustling tourist road.

Fast forward ten minutes and we are cozied up, with a cup of chai from the mom/owner of the hotel, in a super clean room with two beds and hot showers for just precisely the price we wanted to pay.  We immediately enquired about a camel safari and were told that we could choose anywhere between one hour camel adventures and multi-day camel safaris.  Both of us really wanted to go for a camel ride but neither of us felt it was entirely necessary to ride the camel for more than a couple of hours so we booked ourselves on a two hour ride that would take us out of the city and into the desert that lies surrounds the town.

Rising early the next morning we donned our dirtiest outfit that we didn’t mind getting stinky (though I wasn’t positive I was making the accurate guess that the camels weren’t going to smell to great).  We ventured out the front door, and there, in the middle of the paved street with  motorcycles zooming past was our transport for the day: two towering camels (Johnny and Krishna) and two super-tanned Indian men (can’t rember their names for the life of me!) attempting to get the camels to lay down onto the ground so that we could climb onto them easily.

With a bit of a jolt and some steep angles we rose into the air and soon towered over everyone on the streets.  Once we were up and had our feet securely in the straps the camel handler clicked his tongue and the Johnny and Krishna started off at a slow and leisurely stroll out of the city.  Within a few minutes we were on the outskirts of the city and our guides were done walking.  They hopped up onto the seat behind us and steered the camels into the open desert.

The gait of the camel is different from any other animal – at this point I have only really ridden elephants and horses and this was a much more plodding and level gait than the elephant but definitely not anything like the even and measured gait of a horse.  As we ventured into the desert we passed some of the remote dwellings and saw more of the authentic rural life – the guide noted that all of the half-naked children we passed would never see the inside of a school-house and the girls would likely be married off as young as possible.  It’s hard for me, a Westerner to imagine that life-style but we plodded past them and the fleeting moment of sadness/pity/envy of the simplicity/sympathy and nonchalance faded as we walked onward.

Isn’t that really how it always is though?  There is so much that we see in a moment and we wish we could effect change, but then moment passes and the thoughts are fleeting and in a third-world country you’re already onto the next heartbreaking moment before you’ve even processed the first.

So, with that Johnny and Krishna plodded onward, occasionally trotting, deeper into the desert.  A bit later we took a break so that Helen and I could take some pictures with the camels.  This is where I will affirm all of the stories you’ve heard about mean and nasty camels – they were all proven true in my experience!

Our guides had the camels laying down and indicated that we could stand near them for some pictures.  Krishna, though, was in a contrary mood and turned around and tried to nip at me as I approached.  At other times they just bared their teeth in our direction, thrashed their head when we got within in their vision range and Johnny actually let out some very nasty (but entirely funny)  belches.  All in all, Cousin Helen and I were constantly on the offensive because they kept trying to cause us bodily harm – of course they wouldn’t dare do that to their owners and were perfectly sweet to the two camel handlers.

We headed back into town, changed our clothes and sought out some chai – another successful day!

A little video of the adventures:

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Reading: Alchemy of Desire - Still reading this – it’s not very compelling and I am having a hard time getting through it…probably wouldn’t suggest it to anyone.

Listening: Enya, somehow the same 25 Enya songs on my MP3 player just never get old.